


now i will not change my mind

by todareistodo



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todareistodo/pseuds/todareistodo
Summary: jan notices
Relationships: Jan Vertonghen/Harry Winks
Comments: 13
Kudos: 41





	now i will not change my mind

**Author's Note:**

> had to be done

Jan notices.

It’s subtle, an undercurrent running through interactions, something he can forget about if he isn’t paying attention. It’s sweet, really, how his cheeks flush and he smiles to himself all pleased when complimented. Jan smiles watching Poch squeeze the back of his neck in a wide palm and mutter something that makes Harry blush lightly and his lips twist in an attempt to control the happiness pulling at his mouth. It’s endearing.

* * *

The sun is hot on the back of his neck and he can feel sweat collecting in the neck of his training kit. The back is plastered to his skin, shifting uncomfortably every time he moves and he’s flat-out panting, gasping for air. Nobody else is faring much better; Dele has collapsed on the sidelines, whining at Jesus who’s trying to rouse him for a final game. Jan rolls his eyes watching the temper tantrum but he’s desperate for him to give in before he crumbles at the knees.

Harry is watching him across the pitch. Whether he’s watching or dazing aimlessly into the sky, Jan isn’t sure but he feels his gaze on his skin like an itch. He rubs the crease of his elbow absently, nose wrinkling at the stickiness, as he marvels at Harry’s hair still perfectly in place, strand for strand bar one hanging between his eyebrows and slowly curling in the heat. He smiles.

“You’re fucking welcome!” Dele calls, clambering to his feet gracelessly and racing towards the changing room with energy absolutely absent when he was whinging. Jan watches Eric flick him between the shoulder blades and mentally applauds him.

“Hey, Winksy.” Jan falls into step with him. Harry’s slouching with the exhaustion and the heat. Jan feels like he’s towering over him. “Your hair is still so perfect, I am amazed.”

Harry laughs, short and breathy. His face is flushed, tanned but still red, dripping sweat. He looks at Jan out of the corner of his eye and lets out another laugh, short and exhausted.

“Thanks.” He says gruffly.

“Also, the free kicks you were trying earlier were good.” Jan continues, knocking a shoulder into him. “Very good, maybe a secret talent, no?”

Harry hums doubtfully this time. Red blossoms down his neck. Jan tries not to smirk, amazed that it’s so easy, loving the power he has to fluster Winks and watch him squirm. He contains his laughter and keeps on prodding, having fun.

“Oh, come on!” He teases. They’re into the relative cool of the changing room now. “No need to be modest. I would let you take free kicks, if I was a manager. Would want you to, dare I say.”

There’s a strange noise, like a strangled mouse cornered in a trap that can see the end coming, and Jan turns to stare at Harry.

“You have heat stroke?” He jokes, reaching out a hand to press against Harry’s forehead but Harry wriggles away, gulping for air and Jan thinks that’s a bit overdramatic because he’s panting a little but he’s not _that_ short of breath. “Are you okay?”

Harry nods, gesturing towards the toilets. “Just need some water. Throat’s dry.” His voice is gravelly and low so Jan lets him go without comment, chuckling at the creeping pink across his face and neck.

* * *

They spend more time together now. Jan likes it, likes having Harry around and close. He’s earnest and thoughtful, laughs at all of Jan’s jokes, picks him up a jacket on his way out for training because he knows Jan always forgets. Jan isn’t sure why or how he’s acquired Harry but he’s happy he has, happy he gets to hear his laughter and feature in however many videos Harry wants for his social media stories.

Harry doesn’t like Jan touching his hair so he does it as often as possible, ruffling it every time he passes him, laughing loud because Harry reacts the same regardless, huffing indignantly and batting his hands away. He rounds his shoulders and glares at Jan, Chihuahua playing Pitbull, and Jan just coos at him.

“There is so much hair gel, it makes no difference!” He teases when Harry catches his wrist in a tight grip before he can get there. His fingers are still clenched, biting into the bone. Even sat down as they are, nondescript English motorway blurring outside the window, he’s significantly taller than Harry. Harry is still cradling his wrist, grip gentle now.

“Doesn’t make a fucking difference.” Harry snaps petulantly. He moans, too, complains all the time and Jan likes that too. It makes him laugh. It’s so easy to affect Harry. “You know it does my head in.”

“Sorry, princess.” Jan chortles, wrist suddenly held tight again as Harry goes strangely tense. “Winksy? Are you good?”

Harry nods hastily, finally letting go and Jan’s hand falls limply back into his lap. The quiet is cloying, especially in contrast to the screeches from behind them, the French pop music and incessant laughter. Jan sighs and rests his head on the window, smiling at Harry as he yawns widely and tries to muffle it in the neck of his hoodie.

“Hey.” Jan murmurs quietly. “You should sleep.”

Harry shrugs, yawning again. Jan pulls on the sleeve of his jumper until his head is resting on Jan’s shoulder, height difference making it easier. Harry shivers but ultimately relaxes into it, eyes already closing and mouth opening as he breathes slowly.

“Good lad.” Jan mutters, watching as Harry twitches, blushes, hands fisting. _Oh_, Jan thinks.

* * *

Jan calls him (because that’s something they do now, apparently) and Harry picks up on the fifth ring. Jan can hear, just from the irregularity of his breathing, how excited he is. It makes fondness twist in his stomach.

“Jan!” Harry calls happily. “How are you?”

Jan wants to squeeze the sincerity out of him. “Good, thank you. How are you?” Even though he already knows the answer.

“Amazing, I’m amazing. Can’t believe it, to be honest, don’t think anyone can. In the Number 10 shirt and all, innit mad? It’s a dream come true, miracle really, when you think about it, did you - did you watch?”

It’s the first pause for breath he allows himself, eager and keen and desperate to know what Jan thinks, what he has to say.

“Yes.” Jan says easily. “It was a good goal. So good, I would never expect it from you.”

Jan expects the silence on the line but it still sends a thrill through him, quiet and exciting. He turns up the volume on the call, presses it closer to his ear.

“Not a fluke, either. You had to get the finish right and you did perfectly. You played so well all match, I was very impressed, Winksy. You work so hard. I am proud, no?”

It’s soft, the whimper Jan hears, but he swears he hears it, can feel it in his blood as it slowly thuds. He clutches his phone tighter in his fingers, wondering if he can push Harry to breaking point. He aches imagining it.

“I do not know who else could deserve the Man of the Match as much as you. Harry?”

Harry huffs a shaky breath. Jan smirks as he hears fumbling on the other end, erratic breathing. Jan wonders if he’s still with the rest of the England squad or hiding away, breathing heavily into the phone as Jan’s words sink in.

“Are you alright?” Jan chances, worried suddenly he’s scared Harry off, made him feel vulnerable and found-out.

Harry inhales shakily. “Yeah, of course. Thank you - thank you, I wouldn’t go that far but cheers, mate.”

Jan wants to snort at the _mate_ but allows it for what it is, reels back in on the praise even though he wants to push Harry until he agrees, believes Jan’s words himself and accepts them. For the moment, his soft breathing and smile Jan can _hear _is enough.

“You should be celebrating.” Jan reminds him softly. His house is empty and dark, late, and he’s secure enough to admit he stayed up just to hear from Harry. “You deserve it.”

Harry sighs and Jan grins. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll see you soon?”

Jan makes sure to say mate when he says goodbye, emphasising it enough that he knows Harry will have picked up on it, somehow strangely satisfied when he hangs up.

* * *

Harry is grinning up at him, breathless, ecstatic, and Jan has to be careful. 90 minutes sit between them. He ruffles his hair, beaming happily when Harry groans and punches him square in the chest. He runs a finger along the edge of the captain’s armband, pulling it and letting it ping back with a snap. Harry puffs his chest out, proud.

“You’re too short to be captain.”

Harry makes a funny affronted noise, barrelling into Jan with his shoulder, all his weight behind it. He just groans when it fails to move Jan and then they laugh.

“Funny because I’m still gonna be your captain.” It’s sweet how he can’t keep the awe out of his voice, still baffled by the honour.

Jan hums. “Only because I’m not on the pitch. It’d be me.” He laughs when Harry rolls his eyes, but watches him with the armband tight on his bicep, heart in his throat, so fond its sickening.

“Harry.” Jan murmurs when it’s over, changing room shambolic but starting to empty. He’s still wearing the armband, fidgeting with it absentmindedly. “You did so well.”

Harry shakes his head immediately, monologue streaming out. “We fucking lost, Jan, it’s embarrassing, I couldn’t do the job and I let the team down-“

Jan shushes him, maybe overaggressively, but Harry quiets, fingers still playing with the band, pulling at the velcro and then pressing it back down. The changing room is empty, Lamela still in the shower singing, but unaware and faraway. Jan grips the armband in his hand, feels Harry’s muscles twitch underneath it.

“You were amazing.” He says quietly, squeezing gently. “It is so much responsibility and you did so well. I am so proud, I was so proud watching you. You work so hard and I know, and that is why I am proud, yes?”

Harry is shivering slightly, small tremors, and his eyes are on his feet. Jan stares only at his face, the pinkness over his cheeks and starting to creep onto his ears, hot and overwhelming. He knows, if he were to press a thigh between his legs, Harry would be hard. It’s a heady feeling and Jan’s tongue feels too big for his mouth.

“I want you to know you are good.” And Harry whines. “I want you to know I think you are good.”

Harry whimpers his name and it would be heartbreaking if Jan didn’t want it too, didn’t know, hasn’t noticed and realised. He loosens his grip on Harry’s arm and slides a palm up his neck, squeezing gently, feeling his vertebrae and the heat of his flushed skin. Harry falls against him and he feels him against his thigh. He kisses his temple gently.

“I’m sorry.” Harry mutters, words muffled where his lips are pressed to Jan’s chest. “Bit embarrassing.” And there’s laughter in his words that makes Jan grin.

“Eh.” He shrugs. Harry peels himself away and his blush is softening, a pink glow now. “We all have our things, no?”

Harry giggles and shrugs too. He adjusts himself sheepishly and starts changing. Jan waits and they walk to the bus together, hands brushing, and sit together and Harry’s head immediately drops onto Jan’s shoulder.

Harry is nattering again by the time he’s buckled into Jan’s front seat, playing with the radio and moaning when nothing he likes is on. Jan wants to give in to the power now that it’s been aired, wants to praise Harry to watch him squirm when there’s nothing they can do about it, but he holds his tongue and laughs along to everything Harry says.

Harry is off like a shot once the front door is open, rummaging through his kitchen without asking and already calling for Jan to ask why he doesn’t have any chocolate, cupboards banging and when he yelps, Jan rolls his eyes and checks on him.

“Stubbed my toe.” He grunts, eyeing the kitchen table darkly.

Jan laughs loud and clear, gathering Harry up in his arms, tight around his middle. Harry goes lax, breathing slowly like he’s forgotten how to and has to remind himself. Jan kisses up his neck, not bothering to take his joggers off, fingertips skittering above the waistband. Harry sighs happily and leans back onto Jan’s body, lets him take their weight.

“You’ve been so patient.” Jan says quietly. “I know you will be good for me.”

Harry whimpers pathetically, sound small and lost. It makes Jan’s chest clench and his grip tighten. Harry pushes back onto him, wriggling slightly. Jan is definitely too old to be affected by it all the way he is.

“I don’t even need to ask, see.” He continues. “I have known for so long.”

Harry’s quickly turning red, embarrassed and turned on. He whines again, impatient, moving against him rougher and quicker.

“C’mon, Jan.” He grumbles. His voice is gravelly, even as all his other sounds are whimpers. “Please.”

“Mm.” Jan hums. “I’ve been wanting to show you how good you are. Show you how proud I am, no? You deserve it, Harry. Always such a good boy.”

Harry moans, then, loud and pained. He’s rubbing himself over his joggers, fast, and Jan almost wants to stop him, turn him around and do the job himself, take his time and see how far words can take Harry, how far _Jan_ can take Harry, but Harry is so desperate already, unashamed and it would probably be cruel to stop him.

He shushes him gently, Harry’s overwhelmed, broken little whines loud in the quiet. When Harry turns in towards his chest, Jan grips him by the jaw and kisses him silent, biting down hard just to see how easily Harry opens for him and he can feel, in the speed of his breath and the shudders through his body, that he’s on the edge.

Jan slips a hand underneath the waist of his joggers, fingers catching on the wet spot on his underwear, smiling to himself as Harry groans and shakes. He circles the tips of his fingers over the head of Harry’s cock, dripping and sensitive. Harry moans through gritted teeth, nails digging into Jan’s thigh.

“Jan.” He draws it out, broken. “Please, please, I wanna come. I can’t-“

“Shh.” Jan dots kisses along his neck, skin sweaty. He brushes his thumb over the slit, amazed by how wet he is. “Of course you can. Come for me, Winksy.”

Harry whimpers, head shaking like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, pushing back against Jan’s body and into the light, barely-there touch on his cock. His skin is so hot to the touch, t-shirt soaked through.

“Jan.” and Jan tuts, murmuring about being good for him, and Harry comes, finally, shivering, whining.

They’re quiet as Harry comes down, Jan chewing on his bottom lip as Harry shifts against him, still hard and starting to ache. He draws his hand out and wipes the mess on Harry’s t-shirt, laughing when he groans and slaps Jan in the chest.

“Bloody hell.” Is the first thing he says, turning around, still flushed, smiling dopily. “Oh.” He mumbles, looking down.

10 minutes later, Harry is wiping his mouth clean and curling into Jan’s side like a cat, fiddling with the remote and picking something Jan thinks looks shit. He tells Harry as much and he gasps dramatically, telling Jan in a 5 minute ramble why he’s incorrect. Jan laughs until his stomach aches, and covers Harry’s face in kisses until he groans and pushes him away.

“I’m sleepy.” He mumbles, cheek pressed to Jan’s chest, eyelids low and heavy.

Jan smiles, pecks the top of his head. “Get some sleep then.” Harry lifts his head long enough to glare at him before he drops it back down, eyes closing. “Good boy.”

Harry sighs happily and presses into his side.


End file.
